Someone to Hold My Hand
by Anamnesis Redivivus
Summary: One-shot. On his way to Rivendell to attend the Council of Elrond, intoxicated Boromir ponders about his life, family, duty, greatness...and what he really wants. Please READ! And review!


Disclaimer: I don't own anything from J.R.R. Tolkien's works. I'd be happy to own them if they would be given to me free of charge...only possible in my dreams, but by Eru I have my right to dream whatever my subconscious would throw at me!

A/N: This is in 1st POV, following Boromir's train of thoughts as he rides towards Rivendell. Movie-verse (because it's inspired by the movie - Sons of the Steward scene from the Special Extended Edition of TTT).

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When I read all of those books and scrolls to study lore, I thought I had figured out the path to greatness. It seemed that those great figures in history and legends went through a difficult life in general. So I thought, 'couldn't I become great too?'

My mother, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, passed away when I was a young boy. My father, the Steward of Gondor, was a narrow-minded man. My brother always put his fate at the feet of our father, but it was always stepped on. I lived with all of those things and survived through it all. Do I not deserve greatness?

I studied whatever was given to me. I put up with the quaint lifestyle of the nobility. My being a firstborn always put more burdens on my shoulder than I could handle. Father always entrusted me with everything he himself could not do. Had he ever considered Faramir as capable of anything as I? I think not. I always wanted greatness, I'll admit, but he heightened it to near impossibility. I should have forged my own path, but the thought of power and glory seemed so alluring - so alluring that I took little interest in anything else.

I put up with everything that was thrown at me. I obeyed and honored. But where is my reward? Where is my greatness?

Do only kings attain greatness? Why cannot a Steward become a king if the line has been broken for so long? Is it not obvious that they, the royalty, will not return? I wondered hundreds of thousands of times why I was not a prince. It would certainly be much easier to become great if I had been a prince. Father always told me I would do great things, but the world has not recognized my achievements. Had I been a prince, I would have been the subject of many songs.

Is my suffering not enough to satisfy the world? Have I not suffered enough? How much more must I go through to be known as Boromir the Great?

Perhaps it is the numerous bottles of ale I have drank since my departure from the tavern in Rohan, but I am beginning to feel under appreciated. I may be known amongst my people, but not by the world. I am the spearhead of the army fighting against the Dark Lord. _I_ am protecting all those west of my country. Do I not deserve my recognition?

But I guess that if an heir of Isildur would return any day, his heritage and name would blot out all of my successes. My life's work would be thrown at the heir's feet like my brother's fate below my father. Then again, the heir may be kind and gracious enough to go around my reputation and let it keep growing. What would I do if it was crushed and I would have to start all over again?

The cold evening wind and the ale made me shiver under my heavy cloak. I hated what I was at this moment. I was riding northwest to a meeting instead of furthering my career by fighting the Enemy. Father sent me because he did not trust Faramir. He crushed Faramir's confidence as well as his reputation and spirit. I respect my father for all he has done for Gondor's sake, but I believe that he is truly an inadequate father. He made me miss my life before my mother passed away. It was not that he was kinder then as he is now, though he was a little less rigid, but mother was there to ease away everything that made me withdraw from the rest of the world. I miss her.

Stupid ale. It was making me think about her again. Memories of my mother always pushed me to the brink of bawling like I used to as a little child. I do not think Faramir and I ever got over her death. I am not even sure if Faramir remembers anything about her.

I suddenly felt like a lonely being full of nothingness. My mother was gone, my father was distant, and my brother was too focused on winning father's love. I stood alone. I was without direction.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a companion through a forlorn, rocky road? Someone to pat your shoulder and tell you that everything is going to be all right. Someone to hold your hand and lead you through this dark, chaotic world. I wanted to become a little child again - full of innocence and without a worry in the world. I wanted to be led for once, not leading. Wouldn't it be nice? To have someone to hold your hand?

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A/N: I know there's not much of an organization of thoughts, but I wrote as things came into my mind - as Boromir would've been thinking in his mind (while tipsy). For a drunken man, he sure thinks straight, eh? Review, pretty please!


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